


Hair Worth Fighting For

by leashy_bebes



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, hair-porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-09
Updated: 2011-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leashy_bebes/pseuds/leashy_bebes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as comment fic for the lovely <a href="http://myworldmytrue.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://myworldmytrue.livejournal.com/"><b>myworldmytrue</b></a> who was understandably perturbed by what Eoin said about cutting off his hair. AKA, ridiculous hair porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair Worth Fighting For

It starts innocently enough. Arthur is always oddly disappointed when he can’t find something to berate Gwaine about. If it was Lancelot or Percival, Merlin would have to have words with him, but Arthur and Lancelot are very sort of...careful around each other, and even Arthur’s aware enough to know it would probably break Percival’s big, soft heart. But it’s Gwaine, who gives as good as he gets, so Merlin doesn’t think much of it.

Training is over for the morning and the air is full of loud voices and laughter, and the clang of discarded weapons. Gwaine had been on top form, even more impressive than usual. Arthur can usually beat him, but fighting _looks_ easier for Gwaine. Where Arthur looks calculated and determined, Gwaine fights like it’s totally secondary to the business of the day – which is normally practising his long-distance flirting on Merlin, if we’re being honest – and Merlin thinks that kind of annoys Arthur. (The ease, not the flirting.)

Still, Merlin had watched the training closely, and there was nothing Arthur could legitimately criticise. He’s not entirely surprised when Arthur looks Gwaine up and down with an air of irritation and says,

“You need to cut your hair.”

Gwaine just gives Arthur a look. He has a lot of _looks_. This one means _what you just said is so insane, I’m choosing to believe you never said it at all_. Then he flicks his hair in a way that makes Arthur glare, and makes Merlin frankly a bit weak in the knee-region.

“Later, Sire. Merlin.” And he strolls off.

Merlin’s not in time to wipe the grin off his face before Arthur turns around.

“He looks ridiculous,” Arthur insists. “Unbecoming of a knight.”

_Maybe so, but I happen to very much enjoy pulling on it and if you cut it off then so help me I will magic it right back_ , Merlin thinks fiercely and maybe some of that shows on his face because Arthur scowls and says,

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Go and clean something, Merlin.”

“Alright,” Merlin agrees cheerfully.

Gwaine’s hair totally counts as ‘something’.  


*

 

It gets altogether more serious a few days later, although Merlin doesn’t realise it at first. From what Merlin can piece together, Elyan and Percival had started the day off innocently enough by putting on a demonstration of swordsmanship to the children in the lower town. Gwaine had showed up and joined in what was rapidly becoming a play-fight, and by the time Merlin got there, Arthur and Gwaine were rolling around on the floor in a flurry of fists and knees and the silence of two bone-headed idiots refusing to let on when something hurt.

Merlin watches with mild interest for a little while, mentally calculating the odds on who started this one.

“Been going long?” Merlin asks Percival.

He shrugs. “Ten minutes. Some of the kids got bored.”

Merlin sighs despairingly. The destined king of all Albion and Strength himself. They are such a pair of children.

“I think Arthur’s trying to cut his hair,” Percival says, like that’s an afterthought.

“ _What_? Hey! Hey!” Merlin yells, wading his way into the pitched battle. He reaches down and pinches hard with both hands, getting someone’s ear and someone else’s upper arm.

Arthur and Gwaine leap apart like fighting cats after a bucket of water.

“You,” Merlin starts, pointing at Gwaine. “Stop antagonising him. And _you_ \- ” transferring the finger of doom to Arthur, “Just - not the hair, okay?”

Arthur grumbles and rubs at a growing bruise on his cheekbone while Gwaine leaps none-too-steadily to his feet and gives Merlin a slightly wobbly bow.

“Your word is my command, sweet Sir,” he says in an overly formal voice and Merlin closes his eyes.

See? Antagonising, right there.

*

“Psst.”

Merlin pauses in the corridor and looks around a little self-consciously.

“Hey,” the disembodied voice says again, a bit muffled.

“Um. Hello?”

A noise like stifled laughter and then the voice again, affection drawling the vowels out. “ _Meeerliiin.”_

Merlin looks around a bit wildly. “Gwaine? Where the - ”

“Tapestry,” Gwaine says and Merlin turns to look at a tapestry of one of Arthur’s unfortunate looking relatives’ bloody victory over some poor bugger. When he gets close to it Gwaine’s hand darts out and pulls him into the shadows behind it.

Merlin has many questions - not least _how the hell do you know this place better after a few months than I do after years?_ \- but he also has priorities and he accepts Gwaine’s warm, slow kiss eagerly.

“So,” Gwaine says quickly. “Percival’s covering for me, Lancelot’s covering for you. We officially have the afternoon to ourselves.”

They’re easily the best words Merlin’s heard in at least a month and he kisses Gwaine again, hands cupping his face and sliding into his hair. It turns out the tapestry conceals an ancient, narrow stairway that emerges near one of the smallest exits from the castle. Outside Gwaine tells him to wait a moment and kicks through the long grass by the castle walls until he finds a bag and hefts it onto his shoulder.

“What’s that?” Merlin asks curiously.

Gwaine - lovely, brash, confident Gwaine - looks at Merlin almost shyly from behind the casual fall of his hair and says, “Lunch. Wine.” His mouth quirks into a much more devilish and familiar smile. “Honey.”

Merlin laughs, his heart swelling about three times its normal size as he reaches out and grabs Gwaine’s hand, squeezing it for a moment before they strike out for the woods. They walk quickly while they’re in sight of the castle and then slow down a little, enjoying the warmth of the day. Gwaine keeps stopping Merlin, pulling him in for lingering kisses in the sunshine, but eventually they make it to the cover of the woods.

Merlin can’t wait a second longer, drags Gwaine into a proper kiss this time, filthy and wanton. Gwaine’s arms come up around him, drawing him in close. There’s a happy sigh when Merlin curls his fingers through Gwaine’s hair, and Merlin’s not quite sure who made it. In between kissing and biting at each other’s mouths, and the incredible distraction of Gwaine’s hands fumbling under his shirt, they manage to stumble their way towards a large tree.

The bark is rough on Merlin’s back but he decides it’s enough of a flat surface to be going on with and spreads his legs shamelessly. He swears under his breath when Gwaine’s thigh presses up hard against his cock. Gwaine laughs a little as he nuzzles at Merlin’s throat, scratching with his stubble in between tiny kisses.

_Smug_ , Merlin thinks. “Did you say something about - lunch?” he asks, possibly betrayed by a hitch in his breath.

Gwaine blinks wide eyes at him and says, “Tell me you’re joking?”

“No,” Merlin says innocently, but a smile gives him away. “Joking,” he admits. “Completely joking, Gwaine, come on.”

Gwaine drops to his knees and drags Merlin’s breeches down with him as he goes.

“Oh,” is Merlin’s considered and eloquent reaction. “ _Oh_.”

Gwaine laughs up at him, his breath hot and damp on Merlin’s skin through his braies. He pulls them down with his teeth - his fucking _teeth_ , Merlin is just never going to recover from meeting this man - and Merlin makes another embarrassing sound, his hips shuddering forward. Gwaine rubs his lips up and down the underside of Merlin’s dick and Merlin hands are already creeping towards Gwaine’s hair, scratching softly over his scalp.

Gwaine hums pleasurably and the noise shoots through Merlin, making him shudder. Gwaine takes mercy and chooses not to prolong it the way he does sometimes, drawing Merlin right to the edge and then dragging him back over and over again. Today, in the sunshine, with only the birdsong to compete with their own noises, Gwaine just takes him right in, deep and eager, pulling Merlin’s hips in to fuck his mouth.

“God, you are - ” Merlin says, and he desperately wants to touch Gwaine’s soft, stretched lips but he’ll be damned if he can move his hands from that glorious hair at all. It feels so good around his fingers, thick and strong, curling around his fingers like it has a mind of its own and wants Merlin _right there_. Merlin thinks he would probably throw down a gauntlet at anyone who tried to mess with this hair. Alright, borrow a gauntlet first. But god, he would battle wyverns and immortal armies and whatever-the-hell else for this hair.

The throb of Gwaine laughing around Merlin’s dick is his first clue that maybe he might have said some of that aloud. Merlin tugs sharply on his hair and Gwaine’s laughter turns into a moan, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. Merlin gives up on anything except the feeling of Gwaine’s mouth, the heated curl of Gwaine’s hair around his hands, and the hard one-handed grip Gwaine has on his hipbone.

Gwaine draws back, sinks down, draws back, and Merlin comes abruptly, like it’s been punched right out of him and his knees almost buckle. He can feel Gwaine swallowing around him, waves of heat crawling all over his body as he shakes and bites on his own hand to keep from screaming. And then he kind of feels like he’s floating for a minute, maybe two, although he can still feel Gwaine’s hand curled around his hip, still hear his rough, choppy breathing.

“Merlin?” Gwaine asks eventually.

Merlin can tell by the gravelly edge to Gwaine’s voice that he’s taken care of business. Merlin’s a little bit disappointed he missed it and he looks down at Gwaine, returning his soft smile with one probably just as dopey.

“Could never let Arthur deprive me of that,” Gwaine says a bit breathlessly and Merlin laughs, turning his face up to the sky and smoothes his fingers through the tangles he put in Gwaine’s hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on LJ [here](http://leashy-bebes.livejournal.com/269509.html)


End file.
